The Moments We'll Never Forget
by Mischief Not Yet Managed
Summary: A series of drabbles centered around the Soul Eater characters, each taking a look into the true depth of who they are, what they stand for, and their relationships with each other from many different perspectives. This is the behind the scenes. This is what no one was ever meant to see, but was always meant to happen. These are the moments we'll never forget.
1. Thought I Knew

**The Moments We'll Never Forget**

**Drabble One: Thought I Knew**

* * *

The laughing sun slowly made it's ascension over the clouded horizon. The crack of dawn's light showed only one of the gang of seven awake at this early hour of the morning. Black Star, last of the Star clan, was sitting atop of his scrambled sheets, hugging his legs tightly to his toned chest, his breathing ragged and his child-like eyes squeezed shut.

It was thought by many that Black Star could not be bothered by anything, but the silent tears streaming down his cheeks showed otherwise. Weakness wasn't something that he prized in the least, and certainly something that lead to all sorts of trouble. Feeling made you weak, caring made you vulnerable, made you open to attack. But like only a few times before, Black Star couldn't bring himself to cut off the emotions.

But crying lead him to nowhere, and nowhere was a place he had visited far too often. He had always wanted to go _somewhere_, to be _someone, _but the realization he had recently made brought forth the truth that he couldn't do this. He'd never be able to go off and be great, because there would always be something holding him back.

And that wasn't even what terrified him most; it was this hurt that just wouldn't go away. He thought he knew pain front to back, inside and out, but this... he couldn't handle this, the fear of being left alone. Black Star needed people, needed someone to stand by him, to listen, to agree with him. He needed that reassurance. And Black Star didn't fancy needing anyone.

Slowly, he stretched out his legs and opened his eyes. Not wiping away the tears, not knowing why he did but rather that he had to, Black Star sat up and pushed himself off the bed. He felt blindly for the doorknob, as any light outside was forbidden entrance by the curtains blocking his window. When his hand found it, he quietly pulled the door open. Walking down the familiar hall to his weapon's familiar room, his step never flattered, but his mind raced, telling him to leave her alone, let her sleep. His legs moved of their own accord, walking him to a stop in front of her door. He didn't cringe at the loud creak it made when he opened it.

Her figure laid on its side, her beautiful face blind to him. Slowly, he shook her shoulder. Tsubaki groaned, but nonetheless rolled over to open her eyes and see her meister's tired face and slumped shoulders. He stood there, not sure what he had planned to do or why he had felt the need to wake her. He didn't know why he had wanted to see her, or why he found it essential that her eyes opened.

To make sure she was really still here, he supposed, that that horrible dream was just that: a dream.

Tsubaki blinked the sleep out of her eyes, trying to focus on him, but, when she did, seeing the tear stains upon his face, she was up quicker than Black Star's eyes could follow. And just as fast, warm arms wrapped themselves around his shaking frame, her chin resting on his shoulder. He was hesitant to return the embrace at first, but eventually he hugged her closer to him, glassy eyes not daring to even blink.

She didn't speak at all, didn't "Shh" him or tell him that it would be okay. With Black Star, you didn't often need to speak, just unsimply be there. And even if Black Star himself didn't realize it, his partner did: tears and feelings and needing people weren't weaknesses, but rather what made you stronger. However, Tsubaki also knew it took a great deal for him to be reduced to this state. She bit back the questions though; if he wanted to talk, he would, though that was about as likely as -

His broken voice, no more than a quiet murmur to himself, interrupted her thoughts. And though the words were inaudible even at this close distance, she could hear the shattered resolve in his voice. How broken it sounded.

She tightened her strong grip on him into a death grip, eyes easily sliding closed, head moving so that it was her cheek that laid on his shoulder, a gut wrenching twist in her stomach; she'd never heard his voice sound so... so... there wasn't a word for it. She let out a quiet breath, a tear of her own landing on his shirt. "I won't leave you," she whispered, hoping for reassuring.

It startled her when she heard Black Star's laugh, dulled, but still. "Yeah," he agreed, and another shaky laugh escaped him, the relief too strong for words. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly again, his voice a bit stronger.

This went on for an immeasurable amount of time, neither speaking another word, just standing there holding each other, unsure why they couldn't bring themselves to break away from the other. Yes, there would always be something holding him back from going off to be whoever he wanted to be, but at that moment he couldn't have been more thankful for it.

A while later, he pulled back, holding her at arm's length, his face blank, but with bright eyes; Tsubaki couldn't decipher what they held. Black Star stared at her face for a moment, as if rememorizing it, then turned quickly and slunk out, the door closing soundlessly behind him.


	2. Fall Together

**The Moments We'll Never Forget**

**Drabble Two: Fall Together**

* * *

She can't see. She can't breathe. She can't feel anything. And the only sound she can hear is a dull ringing in her ears.

She's not drowning. She's not suffocating. She's not dead.

She doesn't know where she's been, she doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know where she's going, and she's starting to wonder if that even matters. In this place, thoughts just tend to drift out of the head. This is the land of shadows through which she ventures.

Did she do something wrong? Is this her punishment? They're burying her in the ground.

Maybe it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Maybe she should be, instead, thankful for the time that they had, instead of all the years that they were going to miss. God, she's going to miss those days. But she swears she will remember them, when no one else does, she'll think of the young reaper who could have been so much more. She'll never forget. She'll always remember. She doesn't want him to become something from a history book or a dusty old photograph, because people like that are talked about as facts, not as people. He'll live in her memory, and her sister's...

They're crying, her friends that is. Her sister isn't. She's not. He's not dead, not really. He was a part of her, part of her younger sister, and he still is. He saved them, became them. Would you cry at your own funeral? No. Merely look on in grave silence as your world grieves, hang your head, and bid a silent farewell. Not goodbye, but farewell, because you'd know you'd see them again. This was the air Liz and Patty held about them. You don't cry for yourself. And he was her, and Patty as well. So, no. No, they didn't cry that day.

The two cried the day that it happened, and that was that. They didn't cry for themselves and what they'd do without him, because they knew they'd never be without him. They cried for everyone else, and what _they _would do without him, what the world would do without him, because the world needed him more than they knew. The line of reapers had ended, yes, but their meister was still here, and always would be.

So when the long, black box was lowered into the ground, Liz smiled a small farewell, and made sure it was exactly centered in the hole, the way he would've wanted it to be, the way she wanted it to be.

And her sister? She was hugging Maka and Black Star, who were crying more tears than the funeral party could bear; their way of grieving only fueled everyone else to cry harder as well. Yet Patty wasn't hugging them for comfort, rather to offer it, because for once in her life, Liz's sister understood better than everyone else at the time. To everyone else, the Thompson sisters were the last reminder of him. But they knew that wasn't entirely correct. They knew they were every other part of him that wasn't in that box now.

Liz knew. Patty knew. Kid had known.

The bond between meister and weapon is stronger than almost anything else in this known world. But theirs was stronger, because it truly took connected souls, lives, _people _to cooperate when there were three of them, and certainly when they were all so different from each other, and yet they were just the same. Her sister was a great part of her, and he had been a great part of them, still was a great part of them.

Today was her funeral, and they buried her in the ground. And she couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't feel anything. And the only sound she could hear was a dull ringing in her ears: their crying.

She's not drowning. She's not suffocating. She's between death and life.

She doesn't know where she's been, she doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know where she's going, and she knows that doesn't really matter. In this place, thoughts just tend to drift out of the head. This is the land of shadows through which she has ventured every day since he died. Died, not left.

Because he never left. Never. He made a promise, and he kept good on it.

So no, she did not cry.


End file.
